How Molly Hooper Saved the World
by oneminorityofone
Summary: A small post-Reichenbach story. Sherlock's gone, and Molly Hooper knows the truth. She's left to take care of everyone because Sherlock can't. She's still in love with Sherlock, but John soon becomes her anchor. Originally published on oneminorityofone on tumblr.
1. Chapter 1

Molly Hooper took a very deep, steadying breath as she lifted her arm to reach the knocker on 221B Baker Street. She hated doing this, hated seeing her face, but she must. She knocked.

Mrs. Hudson appeared in a moment.

"Molly, dear, I'm glad you're back. Come in, come in," she ushered her in.

"Hello, Mrs. Hudson," Molly said as she placed a hand on the lady's arm. "How are you?"

Mrs. Hudson smiled wanly. "My hip isn't better, but I'm coping, dear."

"Have you heard from John recently?"

"Yes, he called in last Friday," Mrs. Hudson motioned her to a chair. "I'll make you a cup of tea."

Molly sat waiting.

"He calls regularly," Mrs. Hudson called from the kitchen, "but insists that he can't bear to visit."

Molly sank a little in her seat as she brought the pot around and poured her a cup, knowing well by now how Molly liked hers.

"It's very, very hard," Molly muttered ruefully, "to live with something like that. I hate the thought of John suffering like this."

Mrs. Hudson took her seat and stared out a window. "We all have to deal with it, darling, but John… I don't know if he can ever be the same."

Molly flushed, and as she lowered her eyes to sip her tea, Mrs. Hudson thought she could see tears glimmer.

…

"Where are you?" Molly asked over the phone that night.

"It doesn't matter," he told her.

"I think I have the right to know, Sherlock," she hissed.

"Mmm, I like this… spunk," he crooned before his voice turned cold again. " Trust me, Molly Hooper, your right to ignorance concerning my whereabouts is far more valuable at the moment."

She sighed. "Fine."

His voice softened. "How are they?"

"Still the same. Sad," she said.

"Molly?"

"What?"

"Thank you for watching over them."

Molly didn't say anything.

"Goodnight, Ms. Hooper."

Molly sighed again, and closed her eyes, hoping that tonight will be the night she finally falls asleep


	2. Chapter 2

"John Watson?" Molly called, incredulously, to the figure on the street. "John, I don't believe this!"

John looked pale but he managed a faint smile.

"Molly," he opened his arms. "It's been too long."

Molly was too overjoyed for propriety. She ran straight for him. When she let go of him, she was embarrassed by her outburst, but was smiling.

"I tried calling you," she said, blushing. "Did you change your number?"

"Yes," John said. "I lost my phone… I don't know how. It was really unfortunate. That phone…" He trailed off, unable to complete the thought. Molly wanted to reach for him, but couldn't.

"Will you have dinner with me tonight, John?" Molly asked. "Come to my flat. Nothing fancy, but we ought to talk."

John winced. "Molly, I don't know…"

She grasped his arm. " Please, John," she struggled with words. "I know… I know that it's difficult, that I remind you of his- that he's gone, but it's important, I need to see you in front of me, eating dinner and talking to me. I'm sorry, but, please?"

John tightened his lips, but nodded. "Alright. I'll see you at eight?"

She beamed at him. "Thank you."

John waved goodbye and turned away.

Molly saw everything: how he heaved his shoulders before taking a step, how there was tightness to his jaw, how his right leg had limped, just a little, almost imperceptible, only enough to drive Molly insane with guilt tonight.


	3. Chapter 3

John said virtually nothing over dinner.

"John, tell me," Molly asked, "how have you been?"

He grimaced. "Please, Molly, not you, too. Ella, Harry, Mrs. Hudson have all been pleading with me to tell them how I am. I can't tell you anything useful, Mol."

"Alright," Molly murmured. "Will you listen to me?"

He looked confused, but nodded.

"I've been angry, disappointed, ashamed, and very, very angry again, " She said. "And sorry, John. I am so, so sorry."

John stared at her, quite baffled at the spew of words that issued from Molly. For the first time, he saw the tiredness in Molly's face. She looked thinner, paler. Dark circles were under her eyes. The beauty that Molly held dimmed.

He was speechless. Devastation washed over him anew.

"Molly," he started.

Her phone began to ring and she jumped in her seat when she glanced at the number.

"I have to take this," she muttered as she half-ran to another room.

John sat and stared at the food, pushing down the bitter tastes of what he was feeling.

Molly began to raise her voice in the bedroom. "…not fair!"

A few moments passed before she emerged. She gave John an apologetic smile as she sat down and st her phone on the table.

"I'm sorry about that. How do you like your dinner?" She put on a false cheeriness. "Mrs. Hudson gave me the recipe."

"You've been to see her?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes, several times. I wanted to check up on her," Molly said. "She's coping well, John."

"Thank God," John said. "Thank God, she's stronger that I am."

"You're stronger than any of us," she said. "You lived with him, remember?"

He smiled at her. "Thank you." He finished his dinner.

"Do you know, Molly, I talk to him sometimes," he said. "I ask him not to be dead. If anyone can do it, he can."

Molly stiffened.

"You think I'm crazy, too," John said. " He rubbed off on me, I think."

"I don't think you're crazy," she said, not looking at him.

"Well, thanks." John smiled "Thanks for everything, Molly, You have no idea."

He gave her hand a quick squeeze across the table.

"Well it's getting late," John said. "Give me your phone; I'll leave my number in."

Molly's eyes bugged a little. "Hang on, it's a little tricky." She quickly grabbed her phone and pressed some things before handing it to John.

John chuckled, which surprised him. "I do know how to work a mobile, Mol."

Molly said nothing.

He handed her back her phone. "Well, goodnight."

"Goodnight, John," she said as she closed the door behind him as he left.

…

A few moments later, Molly's phone rang again. She picked up angrily.

"That was mortifying, Sherlock!"

He sounded pained tonight. "You couldn't say my name."

"No," Molly said. "We couldn't. Nobody who cared has really been able to say it easily."

"You say it when you talk to me."

"I know the truth."

"Do you say it when you don't talk to me?"

"No."

"And you can't."

"I can't."

"Take care of him, Molly."

"I'll try."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

"Oh, and Molly?"

"Yes?"

"Take care of yourself." The line went dead.


	4. Chapter 4

Any sort of disturbance to Molly's elusive sleep was unwelcome nowadays. When the phone rang, the clock told her it was five thirty in the morning.

Molly picked up with an uncharacteristically curt "What?"

The voice on the other end was soft and throaty. "I'm so sorry for calling so early, Molly."

"John?" Molly sat up, rubbing her eyes. "What's wrong?"

"I was planning to go to the cemetery today," he said, "and I'd really appreciate it if you could come with me. I know that-"

"When?" Molly asked.

"I'll be there in half an hour?" John's voice sounded regretful and hopeful at the same time."Only say yes if it's not too much of additional bother."

"I'll be there," she assured him.

She rolled out of bed and got dressed. She glanced at the mirror and tied her hair back, not bothering with make up. She grabbed her phone and dialed a number she had never dialed before.

"Sherlock," Molly said, "I'm going to the cemetery with John. Please don't call."

"I call in the evenings," Sherlock answered, sounding very awake.

"I know, but you always seem to know when I'm with him and I don't want you to call to listen in this time," she explained to him as she got out of the house. "I'll already have a difficult time in the cemetery, I won't know how to…"

"Navigate the situation?" he asked. "I understand."

"You always understand," she said, "but never cooperate."

"I can't listen in?" he asked.

"No," said Molly.

"I admire your backbone, Molly," he said in a voice that seems to have melted all of her insides. "Not even if I say 'please'?"

"Please," she croaked. "Don't."

"Please, Molly," he whispered.

"Why?"

There was a silence before he said "Alright, I won't call you to listen in."

"Thanks," she said, spotting a cab. "OK… um, bye."

"Goodbye."

She got in. "Who knew men could be so complicated?" she muttered.

The cabbie chuckled, and the voice was so familiar, it chilled her.

"Uh… the Newport Cemetery, please."

The cabbie drove off. Molly could not explain the anxiety to herself and was relived when she arrived.

John was nowhere to be found yet, so she headed to the plot by herself. She brushed away some debris from the headstone. She stared at it, not knowing what to feel. She fell into a meditative trance, so she didn't notice John come up behind her.

"Hi," she said when she felt him tap her shoulder. John looked terrible pale and frail.

"Hey." He was holding a bunch of daisies. "I went to the florist's yesterday to get something for today. Then, I realized how stupid it would be to get him flowers - dead or alive."

Molly looked at him, wanting to run away, hide her face, do anything to hide anything that might give the truth away.

"So these are for you," he said when he thrust the bunch at her. "Thank you for being so patient with me at dinner. Sometime, I'll tell you how I've been."

"Thanks," she said, blushing. "What did you get him, then?"

He grinned, and for a moment, Molly didn't feel so guilty. He pulled a packet of cigarettes from his pocket. "These."

Molly smiled. "Very good."

He placed the packet on top of the headstone.

They silently stared at it side by side. John shook his head. "Even in death, you are the most exhausting man I know."

"He is, isn't he?" Molly said, thoughtfully.

"Why did you love him, Molly?"

She looked at him, startled.

"What?"

"You loved him, didn't you?"

She laughed nervously. "I still do," she admitted.

"Why?" he asked earnestly.

"Why did you?" she asked him.

"Touché," he nodded.

He was quiet.

Finally, he said "I'm still waiting." He wasn't speaking to Molly.

"I've got to get to work," Molly said.

"Me, too," John said. "Clinic."

"I'll see you," she waved as she began to move.

"Yes," he said. "Of course."

She watched him for a moment, wanting to make sure he was alright before heading for St. Bart's.


	5. Chapter 5

John watched Molly leave the cemetery until he felt very much alone again.

"Don't let your cigarettes get damp," he whispered to the tombstone. He turned his back and was about to start making his way back.

A figure appeared before him.

"Sally Donovan?" he almost shouted. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Hello, John," she said. "Nice to see you, too."

"You can hardly expect me to be polite, Sally," John replied.

"I know," she said.

"You haven't answered my question."

"What am I doing here?" she repeated. She laughed. "I've no frigging idea. That's why I'm here so early, so nobody could corner me with that question."

She made her way to the plot. "I wonder if he's still bored. I wonder if he's still.."

"I believe in him, Sally," John said in a low, warning voice as he followed her. "He was my best friend. I knew him."

"You're too trusting," she said, not looking at him. "Remember what I told you that first night? I told you to stay away. You should have listened. Everyone should have listened. He had everyone fooled. Even Lestrade."

"I believe in Sherlock Holmes!" John thundered, using his name in months. "Moriarty was real, Sally!"

Sally turned sharply at him. "He killed himself! Richard Brooks was innocent! It was all a trick!"

John's jaw tightened. "You can't convince me. You didn't know him, Donovan. Now leave, for God's sake, please.

"Alright, alright!" she said. "I hope you aren't bored, freak," she murmured to the headstone.

"SALLY!"

"I'm going," she said, already party gone.

John groaned, wanting to throw something after her very, very badly.


	6. Chapter 6

Months have passed. Molly still wasn't sleeping well. She took a couple of days off last month to try and recover, but it only worsened her anxiety. Molly was tired. She's had a few dinners with John and more visits with Mrs. Hudson. She even put in an appearance at Scotland Yard, speaking to Lestrade, supposedly reporting "something strange" about one of the unclaimed bodies. With these people, she was the steady one, the one who props them up when needed. Alone, Molly wanted to disintegrate.

She checked her phone. No messages. When he didn't call, she was anxious for him to. When he did, she was angry, nervous and frustrated.

At least the people she worked with didn't mind that she looked awful nowadays, or that her moods were erratic. They were dead, and honestly, sometimes, Molly envied their serenity.

"Molly?" a quavering voice called, breaking her reverie. "Are you here?"

"John!" she called, almost dropping a scalpel on her foot as she ran to find him. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to you," he smiled at her. "So I went to see you."

Molly approached him, slowly. He was unusually pale and he was shaking. "Why didn't you just call, John?"

"It's important?"

"You haven't been here since…then?" she asked.

He shook his head and slowly, almost gracefully, John sank to his knees.

"Oh, God," she began to panic. "John, I think you may be having an anxiety attack."

"I do think," he said, "that I need to lie down."

The very last thing John could remember was Molly's worried eyes on him as she called for help.

When he opened his eyes, bright fluorescent lights offended his sight. Mechanical beeping noises went off in the background. Molly was sitting beside his bead with her head in her hands.

"Molly," he croaked. "I'm so sorry."

She raised hear head. "Oh good." she said. "You're awake. We were so worried."

"We?"

"Oh, um," she stammered. "Dale. The security who helped me with you. He didn't know what was happening with you."

"I'm so sorry," he repeated. "I knew you were anxious. I didn't want to add on to it."

"Why did you come?" she searched his face.

"I wanted to take you out for a little holiday," he explained, looking a little nervous. It didn't help that he was in a hospital gown. "Harry's forcing me to go away for the weekend with her to Southwold, and i thought I might take you and Mrs. Hudson. As a 'thank you for putting up with my shit.'"

"You don't don't have to," Molly was flustered. "I just took a couple of days off and I really-"

"I know for a fact that you've got a more that a couple of days of vacation entitled to you, Molly," he said, "Please?"

"Is Mrs. Hudson coming?"

"Yes."

"Alright," she said. "I'll go."

"Good. Now how do I get out of here?"


	7. Chapter 7

"He's alright, then?"

"Yes," she assured him. "The hospital's sent him home."

"They've checked him thoroughly?" he persisted.

"Yes."

"Well, then, going on vacation should be good for the both of you," he said.

"Maybe," she said. "I hope so."

"I know this has taken its toll on you," he said in a smooth baritone voice. "I hope so, too."

She blushed and she felt sure, that as always, he could sense it. "Will you ever come home to fix this?"

"I don't know," he said. "I rather hope so. I really do. Don't give up on me, Molly. Not just yet."

"I would never dream of it," she said. "That's what annoys me."

…

He put the phone down. For the first time, he had lied to Molly. He knew that he was coming home. He knew how he was going to do it. It was all a matter of waiting now. How he hated the waiting.

Not that he was bored. He hadn't been bored since the day he died. Questions without answers tormented him.

He was tormented about emotions he could do nothing about, and Sherlock hated that fact.


	8. Chapter 8

Mrs. Hudson was glad to be out in the seaside. John's sister was an absolute delight. Noisy, abrasive, but a delight.

"She's been good for him, you know," Harry confided in Mrs. Hudson, in a low voice."I was a bit concerned that she'd remind him of Sherlock, but she's been great."

Mrs. Hudson watched the pair together, walking ahead of them. It didn't occur to her that these two were suitable for each other before this. Sherlock had always commanded the attentions of the both of them. He made them tense, and intense. They had both loved him so much. Now they cling to each other, saving each other.

Mrs. Hudson had abilities that escaped even the great Sherlock Homes. She knew of the brokenness in both of them when they were apart. His shadow still eclipsed them. He still anchored them. Mrs. Hudson was very afraid of where they were going.

…

John and Molly continued their walk on the beach while Mrs. Hudson and Harry went to look for a cafe.

"Oh John, look," Molly sighed. "The sea looks so happy."

John looked. "Really, happy? How?"

"Look," she said. "It's dancing." She laughed. "Oh I don't know… I feel silly now." He tried to see. It did look graceful, but the dance was wistful to John's eyes.

"No," he said, his arm circling his waist, pulling her closer to try and share some of her joy. "It's a very expressive dance the sea is doing."

She turned a little to look at him. "Are you ready to tell me yet?"

"Oh Molly," he winced. "You already know."

"No," she said. "You need to tell me. Come on, follow me, and we'll take a seat on the benches."

"Molly…"

"John," Molly turned. "You owe me? Tell me. How have you been since he's been gone?"

He hesitated, and then nodded. Following suit, he sat down beside her. "I'll tell you, but you'll have to be patient. Again."

She nodded. "For you."

"At first, I went through a sort of denial. I went through all the possibilities did not actually happen. I don't want this to have happened but it did.

"Oh, Molly. I felt so much pain, but I don't regret it. Well, not anymore. Before him, I was lost and alone. I wasn't strong for staying with him. He brought me back to life. He gave me a reason to get up in the morning even if it was just to make sure he ate.

"He said he wasn't a hero once. He was. He saved me from a dark place I've created for myself.

"I'm going to live, Mol, even if it's without him, even though it's painful, because of him. He was a good man."

Molly looked at him with tears falling down her own face and reached his cheeks to wipe away his.

He laughed. "Oh look at us. We're pathetic. We should be on the telly, on those afternoon soaps."

Molly smiled at him. "Well I'm glad that you will be alright."

"Couldn't have done it without you," he said softly. "Thank you."

She looked incredibly sad. "I'm just doing what I have to," she said, turning away from him.

"No," he said firmly. He put a gentle hand or her cheek and faced her to him. "You didn't have to do any of this, but you did and we're all very grateful."

She didn't say anything, looking miserably at him.

"I think I love you, Molly," he whispered.

Molly pulled away. "John-"

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "If I startled you. I'm not… sure, and I don't want to be unfair. I'll fix myself and when I don't need to help fix me, I can be sure. You don't have to feel the same way. I'm just telling you that you are so important. You need to feel that, you need to realize it, Molly Hooper. You matter."

"You don't love me."

"I don't know," he said gently. "So you can't know either. All I know is you deserve to be loved, Molly. I'm so lucky to be your friend."

Molly's barely held together emotions broke down then. She was broken in his arms and it was John's turn to try and hold her up.


	9. Chapter 9

For what seemed to be a very long time, John and Molly teetered on high wires of emotion. There was the immense desire to cling on to each other, to comfort each other, make both of them stronger. Yet, there were the sensible logical voices in both of their heads telling them that there was the immense hole Sherlock left that they needed to fill. They didn't want to substitute Sherlock with the other.

It was worse for Molly. For her, Sherlock was half-alive, almost tangible, always present. And she constantly lied to her best friend.

She would go out with John for Lunch or they would go out on some adventure he would think up. He would smile the crinkly smile of his that made Molly want to disappear into the safe, warm, bread-scented sanctuary of his arms. He made jokes, told her stories. They talked about work, dreams, and hopes. He bought her cheap trinkets, books she liked. He even tried to bake her a cake in the shape of a cat. It failed miserably, and they laughed like schoolgirls for hours. Molly would have fun. Or she would tell herself that she should be having fun.

He made her feel important, which Molly never felt before.

Then at home, Sherlock would call, his voice cool and smooth. Usually, he was calm, manipulating and intelligent. Sometimes he sounded sincerely concerned, and sometimes he would sound so pained.

Molly damned her feelings. She was in love with two men.


	10. Chapter 10

She loved him so much. She would do anything for him, even if cost her her own happiness. Mary was perfect. Molly knew it in her heart.

She picked up her phone. "John?" She hesitated. "Yes, would you come out for dinner? I've got a friend in town that I want you to meet."


	11. Chapter 11

It was February 14 when he came bursting into her apartment.

"Molly!" he shouted, looking flushed.

She smiled sleepily. She was about to turn in early. "What are you shouting for?"

He strode across the room and gathered her up in his arms and started spinning, laughing. "Oh you, angel, you! You magnificent friend! Oh my God!"

She laughed, caught in his good mood. "What is it, you silly?"

"I'm getting married!"

She stopped. Her heart stopped.

"Married," she breathed, letting the idea sink in, then her face broke into a smile. "Oh John, I'm so happy for you! Finally! How did you ask her? When's the wedding? Did you tell your sister? Mrs. Hudson will be so glad!"

The two of the rejoiced until it was time to say goodnight.

"Thank you, Molly," John said, smiling his crinkly smile, just for her. "For everything. For fixing me up, finding me love."

She shook her head as she followed him to the door. "You made it happen. I'm so proud."

"I just wish…" he trailed off, standing hesitantly at the threshold and looking at her somewhat sadly.

"No," she said softly. "I'll be great."

John embraced her and said everything that mattered silently.

"Goodnight, Molly."

"Goodnight, Johnny."

She closed the door behind her and wept.

She wept until the phone rang.

"Molly, are you all right?" the voice queried from the other end.

"No," she managed.

"Oh, Molly." For once Sherlock Holmes didn't have anything clever to say.


	12. Chapter 12

_Newport Cemetery. 6:07 am_.

John whispers "I wish you could have been here."

_Mary's house. 11:30 am._

"You look lovely, Mary."

"What would have I done without you, Molly?"

_12:53 pm_

"Hello, Mrs. Hudson! Lovely hat."

"Thank you dear. You've done so much, this will be grand. Shall we come in?"

1:48 pm

"I do."

"Then you may kiss your bride."

"Come here, you…"

_Molly's flat. 11:55 pm._

"Did you send me the flowers, Sherlock?"

"I did. How did you like the wedding?"

"It was beautiful."

"It was, wasn't it?"

"You saw?"

"Wouldn't have missed it."

"I'm glad."

"You looked lovely, Molly."

"Well… Thank you."

"No need to thank me. I was simply stating a fact."


	13. Chapter 13

Molly came home particularly late that night. She was tired, as usual. She fumbled with her keys. She could not, for the life of her, open her door.

"Please," she begged the knob, just wanted to disappear into a dreamless sleep.

"Your wish, my command," a familiar voice said. Someone had opened the door for her from inside.

She blanched. "It's you."

She groaned awake. Why was she on the sofa?

"Long day at work?" he said with a laugh in his voice. She lifted her head to look. He was sitting on the easy chair across her, looking comfortable, reading one of her Nicholas sparks novels, eyebrows raised.

"Sherlock," she said, and pulled herself up to get a good look at him. Handsome as ever. Damn it.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know you would be this affected," he said sincerely.

Molly knew that he didn't just mean to apologize about his sudden appearance and her subsequent reaction. Three years, for him, gone. She closed her eyes tightly not knowing whether she wanted him to disappear. She opened them. He was still there. "You're home," she said. From the array of feelings she was having, she chose calm.

"Yes, I am. For good," he smiled, offering her a cup of tea he had apparently prepared. "For the shock," he said.

The tea was very sweet. Almost too sweet, even for Molly, but she didn't say anything about it. "Well, umm… What are you doing here? Not that I don't want you here! Just…"

"I punched my brother and I don't have anywhere else to go at the moment. Do you mind?" he asked. Molly noticed that he didn't flirt with her, didn't manipulate her. She was grateful.

"Of course not," she said. "What are you going to do?"

"By six in the evening tomorrow I should be able to come out and have some dinner. I'll probably have to appear to the media, or avoid them and let Mycroft deal with them, I haven't decided yet," he said. He got up and began pacing.

"Have you told John?" she asked, concerned about her friend and the implications of Sherlock's return.

He stopped pacing and frowned. "Not yet. Tomorrow," He said, as if making a promise to himself. "Hopefully, he won't react the way you did." He smiled crookedly at her.

"Yes, well…" she flushed. "You'll figure everything out."

"Already have," he laughed."Well, almost. Just enough to keep your walls safe until daylight comes."

She was confused, but shrugged.

"Molly?" All the traces of the laughed disappeared. "Thank you."

"It's fine. Will you be comfortable on the sofa or-?"

"You know I didn't mean just this, Molly." He sat beside her on the sofa.

She kept quiet, pushing back the weariness. "It's nothing."

"No, it's not. Stop undermining yourself, it's not attractive. You're a hero Molly Hooper, a real one. The only one that exists."

She shook her head. "Just being a friend."

"Thank you for saving my world," he said, kissing her on the forehead.

She sighed, breathing him in. She smiled, and then pulled back.

"Well don't think that that will pay for everything," she smiled, pulling her chin up.

He liked that challenge in her voice. "What have you got in mind?"

Fin.


	14. Epilogue

Epilogue.

"Ugh." Sherlock said, infusing disdain into his voice. "Must we?"

Molly suspected he was afraid.

"Sherlock," Molly said evenly, while holding down the upward curve of her lips. "I asked for one thing. Three years, I kept your secret. I took care of everyone. I had my heart broken for you. I saw him married, as did you. You know what I went through. You owe me this, dear. At least this."

Sherlock looked at her steadily for a moment before his gaze softened. "I know Molly, believe me… but this could… just… damage you."

Molly laughed wickedly.

"Sherlock. Just read the damn book aloud."

"It's so stupid. You know what this does for your brain?" he said exasperatedly.

"It's this or Glee, Sherlock."

He shakes his head, but obeys her. "Who am I? And how, I wonder, will this story end?

The sun has come up and I am sitting by a window that is foggy with the breath of a life gone by. I'm a sight this morning: two shirts, heavy pants, a scarf wrapped twice around my neck and tucked into a thick sweater knitted by my daughter thirty…"

Molly didn't care about what he was saying. She's read The Notebook so many times, she knows it by heart, but the sound of his voice outside the tin of a phone, the solidness of him, his company, that was her reward for enduring hell without complaint.

She closed her eyes. He was so close, seated at the foot of her bed. She was safe now.

…

Sherlock got up, glad that she was asleep so he could stop reading the damned fairy tale. He hated fairy tales, but Molly insisted. He could see that the damage was done to her. But if he was being honest to himself, he was very lucky that Molly believed in them. In him.

"Goodnight, Madam," he whispered, and quietly left the room. He was hoping he hadn't broken his promise to John never to hurt her again. He wanted never to hurt either of them again.

"How is that possible?" he wondered aloud, as he disappeared into the London night.


End file.
